Tis the Season
by Yoichi-kun
Summary: **Written with scarylolita** Christmas is on its way. It's a time where Clyde prefers to drink himself sick so he won't have to remember how lonely he is. However, the game changes when Craig and Clyde step under some mistletoe. Slash.


**South Park © Matt &amp; Trey.  
Written with scarylolita. **

**All in Craig's POV.**

* * *

It's December 23rd. I should be sitting at home hiding in a hole somewhere until Christmas is over and done with. That way I can skip the awkward Christmas dinner and the even more unpleasant present opening where I have to try and look please with my brand new pair of socks. I wouldn't say that I hate Christmas, I just don't care about it.

But instead of any of that, I'm sitting in Token's basement at a stupid Christmas Eve _eve_ party. The music is too loud the place is crowded, more than half of the people here are total assholes and, oh god, I think I see that white trash Kenny McCormick making out with Bebe right next to the unconscious form of Stan on the couch.

Stay classy, South Park.

Believe me; I'm not here by choice. People are loud; everyone is either too drunk or too high for their own good. Don't get me wrong, I'm no preacher and I'm not totally sober myself, but at least I can walk two feet without making a fool out of myself.

I make my way across the living room, dodging people as best as I can and trying not to get hit in the head by all the dancing morons. I'm on a mission. I'm trying to find the person who is my sole purpose for being here.

I looked away for a split second and this is what I get for it. He's managed to disappear and now I have to find him.

I finally get through to the kitchen and this is when I spot him.

"Clyde," I say his name with a sigh when I see what he's up to.

He doesn't respond. He is at the counter, pouring himself another drink. He usually gets shit-faced at these kinds of parties and I'm usually the one who has to do damage control. He's always preoccupied – having too good a good time. I usually let it be, but tonight is different. I know this not only because he is my best friend, but also because on a normal night he would be one of the idiots dancing and screaming. Tonight he's not. Right now he's drinking alone in the kitchen.

"Clyde, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" I say with another sigh. Still, he doesn't respond. He doesn't even acknowledge me at first. He takes another sip of is drink and then sets it down with a shaky hand.

"What does is look like I'm doing?" he finally answers. He looks at me and I can see that there is definitely something wrong.

"Clyde you..." I start, but I get cut off as someone taps on my shoulder. I turn around, preparing to snap at whoever it is but all I see is Bebe. Then I notice what she's holding.

"Kissy kissy!" she simpers at us, dangling mistletoe above me and Clyde. I click my tongue and Clyde huffs. Bebe swings back and forth on her heels, a perverse grin plastered onto her face. "Come on!" she urges, shaking the mistletoe impatiently. "Give him lips, Clyde!"

Me and Clyde make awkward eye contact before hesitantly leaning forward. It's quick and chaste, but I guess it's not that bad. It's just a little weird to be kissing your best friend.

"Aw," Bebe coos at us before prancing off. She's probably going to torture more helpless victims.

Clyde looks lost in thought – even more so than when I found him drinking alone mere minutes ago. I take away his drink while I have him distracted and I empty it down the drain. Instead, I fill it with tap water and hand it back to him. "Here, this will make you feel better..."

I can see tears forming in his eyes, but I don't want to call him out on it. Clyde has always been a little sensitive, but he's made fun of so much for it that now he gets sensitive about being sensitive.

I'm not sure what's wrong with him, though. I know holidays suck for him. I know it's been hard since his mother died, even though it was years ago… but I know there has been something else going on with him lately that he doesn't want to talk to me about. He can be pretty stubborn when he really wants to. As much as I'd like to make him feel better, I don't want to get ahead of myself. So, instead, I go with the obvious –

"It's just a kiss, you know..." I cut myself short cause he suddenly moves from his spot and heads to the front door. "Clyde where the fuck do you think you are going? At least take your freaking coat!"

Really, unbelievable. I grab both of our coats and run after him. On my way out I almost collide into Kyle. He's not one for Christmas parties since he's Jewish, but he always shows up anyway to pick Marsh up, much like I'm doing with Clyde.

I catch up to Clyde and throw his coat on his head, making him stop in his track. I decide to finally put my own coat on before chiding him. "Where the fuck do you think you are going?" He's hugging his red coat around himself and is still not saying a word or moving. "Clyde...? What the fuck?"

I'm about to put my hand on his shoulder when he finally answers. "I'm gonna be sick..." he declares before bending down and throwing up the watery contents of his stomach into the snow. Gross. He sinks to the slushy pavement, drenching himself in the process.

"Fuck," I state flatly as he continues to puke his guts out. I emit a sigh, trying not to sound too weary as I make my way towards him. I start rubbing his back, hoping he doesn't keel over and pass out. I'm not carrying his ass home. I won't be able to lift him. He'd probably just wake up with road rash on his face.

He starts whining and whimpering, mumbling and slurring words that come out skewed.

"What the fuck are you trying to say?" I ask him.

"M'sorry…" I hear.

"It's fine," I say. "Shit, just pick yourself up and we'll head back to my place." I help him stand up. There's puke on his chin, but he doesn't seem to notice.

The walk back to my house feels long, though I know it's short. Clyde leans on me the entire time and the extra weight drags me down. When we reach the end of my driveway, I start praying that my parents are asleep. When I open the door… no such luck. Fortunately, they don't start shouting at me. Instead, they just watch silently as I drag Clyde up the stairs. "Come on, man," I say, trying to urge him to stand up.

He groans. I take him into the bathroom and he sits on the toilet seat lid. I grab tissues, wiping his mouth. "Do you still feel sick?" I ask him.

"No…" he slurs slowly, eyes half-lidded.

"Come on, then," I say and we go back into my room. He sits on my bed and I untie his shoes, taking them off before unzipping his coat and doing the same.

"Trynna get me naked?" he asks.

"Shut up," I mutter, feeling myself blush at the remark.

I keep going, forcing his sweatshirt up over his head. He really shouldn't have run off in the snow like that. I take about two seconds to look at him. Clyde works out. He's been doing so for maybe two years now, but he's still got a little bit of that baby fat. It suits him and I like it. I wouldn't say it out loud, but Clyde really does look nice.

"You sure you're not? 'Cause it damn well looks like it," he mumbles while letting himself fall down onto to mattress.

"I said _shut up_, and take your god damn wet pants off. I don't want my bed to get soaked."

I leave him to it and go look through my closet. I shrug into a pair of faded, blue sweatpants before sifting through my clothes to try and find something that might fit Clyde. He is a lot bigger then I am, but I finally find a pair of sleep pants he left here last time he stayed the night.

I turn around and see Clyde propped on his elbow looking at me suggestively. He's in his shorts and t-shirt, staring at me and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Dumbass ..." I say, throwing the pants in his face.

He laughs at me, standing up and shrugging into the pants I tossed him. As he puts them on I go downstairs into the kitchen to get him a glass of water. If he's hung over in the morning, I know I won't hear the end of it. Clyde is like that. He's kind of whiny, but he has a good heart. Unlike me. I'm a dick and I lash out at everyone when things don't go my way.

With a sigh, I return upstairs. Back in my room, Clyde is sitting in the centre of my bed rubbing his forehead. "Why'd I drink so much?" he asks me, moaning and groaning.

"I don't know," I say, handing him the glass of water. "Why _did_ you?"

He sips slow and stays silent. I kill the lights before turning on the lamp instead. If he has a headache, the bright lights won't help.

"I'm stupid," he finally mumbles.

"Yeah," I shrug, not bothering to deny it. "What's new?"

He frowns at me. "Do you really think I'm a moron?"

I let out a sigh. "No," I say. "I'm just not good with this sentimental shit. I don't know how to make people feel better."

"Just be _nice_," he murmurs.

"I'm not good at that, either," I point out.

"Yes, you are..." he says before quietly adding, "You just haven't realized it."

He sets down the glass on the nightstand and finally lies down on his usual side of the bed near the window. He knows I don't like it near the wall. I feel trapped. He really knows me better than anyone, even in this drunken state.

I lie down next to him and pull the covers on us. we are right next to each other, far enough not to touch but close enough that I can feel is breath near my face. His body is so warm next to mine. It's comfortable.

"Would you ..." he starts before pausing and cutting himself off. His voice is low. I thought he was already asleep but I feel him shift closer. "Would you kiss me again? I need to make sure of something"

"No," I say. "Not like this. Ask me another time. Ask me when you're sober."

He doesn't respond after that. I guess he passed out. I lie still, staring up at the ceiling. Why'd I say that? Do I want him? Yeah, maybe I do.

* * *

Come morning, I'm the first to wake. Clyde is snoring and drooling next to me. I decide to go downstairs and get him another glass of water. He'll by hung over when he wakes up. He'll probably spend the day complaining and asking me to do things for him. It always happens like this.

"_Craig, my head hurts!"_

"_Craig, I feel sick!" _

"_Craig, I'm gonna throw up!" _

"_Craig!" _

"_Craig!"_

"_Craig!" _

But you know what? I guess I don't mind it. Clyde's family situation is kind of shitty. Maybe that's why he drinks so much. His mom died and now his dad pretends he doesn't exist. It sounds rough.

Downstairs, my parents are in the kitchen drinking coffee.

"Fun night?" Mom asks.

"Eh," I grunt and shrug.

"How is Clyde feeling?" Dad asks.

"He's asleep still," I say. I refill the glass of water before going back upstairs.

When I open the door to my room, I see him sitting in bed holding his head in his hands. I make my way into the room and close the door behind me.

"Hey, I got you water." I try to talk quietly so I don't make is headache worst. I hear him grunt before he turns his head towards me. His eyes are red. I don't know if it's from his hang over or if he's been crying.

I think it's nice that he's sensitive, unlike me…. But still, he tries to hide it, even from me. Nonetheless, I always know. I just don't call him out on it anymore and it makes him feel better.

I give him the glass of water and he drinks from it slowly.

"I have to go home." His voice is a bit scratchy, causing me to assume he was crying. I wanna ask him why but I don't want to make things worse.

"If you must, but you could also rest a bit longer. You don't look so good." And it's true. Plus, I know he doesn't' really want to go home. He hates it there.

"No... I think it's better if I go, I don't want to be a burden on you and your family on Christmas." He turns the other way, breaking eye contact. "Sorry I got so drunk yesterday." He gets up and pick his clothes off the floor before moving across the hallway and into the bathroom.

I stand silent and still, letting out a somewhat impatient sigh. Is he trying to guilt trip me? When he returns he is dressed, though he still looks a hung over and upset.

I say, "Stop being an idiot."

He frowns at that. "What the fuck, Craig?"

I hand him the glass of water. "Sip on it," I instruct and he does so. "Look, just fucking stay here for the night. You know my parents don't mind having you. It's not like we're a sentimental family, anyway… especially during the holidays. It's fine if you stay."

"No –" he starts, but I cut him off.

"Stay!" I raise my voice impatiently. "I want you to, okay?"

"Fine," he relents.

I think he gets depressed around this time of year. I probably would, too, if I were in his position.

* * *

We spend the rest of the day lying around for the most part. Clyde sleeps some more and I read a book in the meantime, not wanting to wake him up.

I know it's Christmas Eve and everyone is probably partying or getting ready to go out and see family and friends… but I like this much better. It's quiet and I like raising my eyes from my page and seeing Clyde sleep there beside me. It's strangely soothing.

He wakes up again around mid-afternoon. He sits up in my bed and I see him try to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"Hey, is your head feeling better?" I ask, marking my page and putting the book down on my nightstand.

"Yeah, thanks…. but I'm kinda hungry right now."

Typical Clyde, now that he's hungry I know that I don't need to worry about him any more.

"Don't move, I'll be right back," I tell him.

I know that my mother is cooking us dinner tonight and I don't want to crowd the kitchen just to get a snack. I make my way downstairs and grab some leftover chips before going back upstairs.

"Don't eat too much or you'll spoil your appetite!" my mom calls.

"Don't worry, Mom. Clyde is always hungry; he'll eat enough for the both of us if necessary." I don't bother waiting for an answer before retreating to my room. I return to an empty bed. Where the fuck is Clyde? Bathroom, probably.

I just get back inside and put the TV on. It's some random Disney movie playing. I haven't seen this one yet. There are way too many and I don't care enough to watch them all. I sit back on the bed, leaning against the headboard and trying to catch up with the film's plot.

Clyde gets back a few minutes later from the bathroom. He seems a lot better than earlier but as soon as he set his eyes on the TV I see the color drain from his face.

"Turn that off..." I turn my eyes back to the screen and I see some bear getting killed. That movie doesn't seem so bad. I don't what the fuck is wrong with him.

"Why?"

"Turn it off!" he shouts at me.

So, I do. "What the fuck?" I ask him, somewhat annoyed at his bitchy behaviour. I cross my arms, staring at him and waiting for answers.

He flops onto the bed, pressing his face into the mattress. He starts taking these deep, heaving breaths and then he starts sobbing. With a sigh, I crawl towards him and start rubbing his back.

After what feels like a long time, he starts to quiet down. With a loud sigh, he rolls over and stares up at me. His cheeks are wet, his nose is red and his eyes are bloodshot.

I reach forward and smudge the tearstains. "You okay now?" I ask him.

"Sorry," he mutters. "I'm just sensitive lately."

"About…?" I question.

"My mom," he reveals quietly.

Of course. "Oh," I say with a wince.

He shakes his head. "S'fine…"

"Is it really?" I ask him.

"No," he snorts. "Fuck, I'm upset." He sits up and rubs his forehead. "Now I have a headache."

"Yeah, that usually happens when people cry," I tell him.

"Why?" he wonders, looking at me.

"Well," I shrug, pausing. "Your body is losing liquids. Snot, tears… you're probably mildly dehydrated."

"Hm," he mumbles, looking incredibly miserable.

Silently, I leave the room again and fetch him a glass of water. When I return, I hand it to him and he sips on it.

"Thanks." he mutters as he hands me back the empty glass. "Why are you always so nice to me? All I ever do is cry and whine. "

Well, at least he's aware of it. I just stare at him for a moment. His eyes are bloodshot, his clothes are messed up, and he's got the worst case of bed hair I have ever seen. It's obvious that he's been crying but I guess that that's what I like the most about him. He's so honest and forward with his emotions. He's my polar opposite. It always takes a lot to get me to cry and even when I do I make sure I'm alone.

"It's fine you don't have to answer that. I don't actually –"

I cut him off before he can continue. In one swift motion, I lean forward. It's a very shy kiss, I don't usually kiss people, but it doesn't make in any less meaningful.

When we part I can see the shock on his face, like he can't actually believe what just happened.

"Yesterday, before you fell asleep you asked me to kiss you again. You said you wanted to make sure of something. Turns out… I wanted to make sure of it, too."

He smiles faintly. "Let's do it again."

I smile back at him before leaning forward once more. I have no experience with kissing, unlike Clyde. He's had girlfriends. I haven't even been out on a date.

I let him nudge my lips apart and take control, getting lost in the feel of it all. We part briefly and he gently pushes me back onto the bed before touching his lips to my neck, lightly at first. He nibbles and bites and I let out a quiet moan. We're interrupted when we hear –

"_Ewww_, yuck!"

Ruby is standing in the doorway.

"Fuck," I hiss and we both hurry to collect ourselves.

Ruby smirks, crossing her arms. "I always knew you two were homos."

"Shut up," I mutter.

It's probably for the best that we didn't go any farther. I don't really want to lose my virginity so soon and especially not like this.

I flip her the bird and I see Clyde blush a deep shade of red from the corner of my eye. She just flips me off in return before opening her mouth again. "Anyways, Mom wanted me to tell you guys that dinner is ready. So, get your shit together and come down before she decides to come check on you herself."  
She closes the door again and goes back downstairs.

I turn to steer at Clyde. He is still blushing, but there is now a smile on his face. "Sooooo... does that mean we are best friends with benefits now?" He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I just hit him over the head. "_Hey_!" he whines. "What did you do that for?"

I just get up and put my hat back on. It must have fallen off shortly before we were interrupted. "Because you are being an idiot again… that's why," I mutter.

He pouts at me. "Craaaig…"

"Is that what you want from me?" I ask. "A fuck?"

"Well, no…" he murmurs, still pouting.

"Don't do that," I tell him sternly. "Anyway, I'm not about to spread my legs for someone I'm not dating. That's not me."

"So, let me take you out," Clyde suggests.

"Out…?" I repeat in question.

"Yeah," he says. "Like, y'know, on a date. That's what people do when they like someone."

I give him a dull look. "I know that."

It's just strange. This is all happening rather fast and it's making me feel shy and insecure. Gross. They're two things I'm not used to feeling and I don't like it.

"We can take it slow," he promises.

I simply nod.

"It's a date then!" He seems way too enthusiastic about this, but that's to be expected. He already seems to have forgotten why he was so upset. God love 'im for having a one-track mind.

We get downstairs and see that the table has been set for dinner. My parents and Ruby have already taken their places around the table. Ruby as obviously staring at us but I just ignore her. I see my mom smiling at Clyde as he takes his place beside me.

We'll tell my parents later. Then again, maybe they already know.

"What took you so long?" Ruby asks with a little knowing look on her face. I kick her under the table and she keeps her mouth shut after that.

We eat dinner in silence, but it's not awkward. Clyde comments every so often, complimenting my mom on the food, discussing the last Bronco match with my dad. It's small talk, really. I listen to them and I find myself smiling a little only to be kicked under the table by Ruby.

_Fuck!_

"_Payback, homo_," she mouths at me.

After dinner, we help my mom clean the dishes and then we retreat back to my room. Just like last night, we spend tonight in my bed. It's nothing new, but this time Clyde has his arms wrapped around me as he holds me close. I relax against his torso, soaking up his warmth.

Time passes like this and soon I can see the clock on my nightstand indicating midnight. That means it's Christmas.

I lift my head a bit to look him in the face but his eyes are closed and he's snoring lightly. I guess he's still tired from the day's excitement.

I kiss a spot along his jaw and close my eyes. "Merry Christmas, you dork..." I say before drifting.

**Fin.**


End file.
